


In the Dark of the Night

by distractoid (thatweirdokid)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-21
Updated: 2015-11-21
Packaged: 2018-05-02 18:15:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5258741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatweirdokid/pseuds/distractoid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam is not okay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Dark of the Night

The soft breaths originating from somewhere on his left were the only discernible sound above the ever present, steady hum of the Bunker's systems.

It had been happening more often than not that Sam dozed off while doing research and could later be found spread out across the worn cushions, hair in disarray and the couch looking almost comically small dwarfed beneath his large but too thin frame.

His brother was slowly and steadily wasting away right before his eyes. And there wasn't a damn thing Dean could do about it. The gates of hell had to be closed one way or another.  
And Sam was so determined to see this through.  
It was worrying how much smaller he looked these days despite still being kind of a giant. It was like his whole presence was somehow diminished and that scared Dean way more than the obvious physical changes in his brother.

This was exactly the reason he had planned on being the one to complete the trials. He knew Sam would have managed to be okay or at least function without him. It was Dean who wasn't able to do the same.  
Even though he might have seemed fine during that year he spent with Lisa and Ben while he believed his brother to be gone for good, he was anything but. Even though he had really come to care for the young woman and her son, the feeling that he was just barely scraping along never left him.  
Still, he put in the effort of not letting anything on because he had promised his little brother to at least try living a normal life.

Dean tiptoed to where Sam lay sleeping, careful not to rouse him. Although he probably shouldn't have bothered. The soft huffs of breath turned to small snores told him his brother was going to be out for at least a couple of hours.  
He studied the way Sam's hair was splayed out all over the place, half obscuring his face, and carefully brushed it aside. It was getting too long again.

Ever since he had whisked his little brother away from his college student life all those years ago Sam's hair had been a topic of discussion between them somewhat frequently. Starting from Dean teasing him about it, to him getting annoyed that Sam couldn't be bothered to get a haircut and finally leading to an unspoken agreement not to mention it. Well, Sam didn't mention it and Dean was still silently annoyed by the mop on his brother's head. Then one night Dean, still slightly feeling those shots he had tossed back, had returned to the cheesy, floral-patterned motel room they were staying in at the time to find the other man sprawled across his bed sleeping, his hair everywhere.

So Dean had given into his impulse to do something about the hair situation, gotten the small pair of scissors, usually used to cut off pieces of gauze and medical tape, from their first aid supplies and started clipping away strand after strand until Sam's mane was down to a manageable volume. It was still kind of long-ish but he figured if he left it like that his brother would be more inclined to forgive him for his impromptu hair styling session.

Satisfied with his work, Dean had peeled out of his clothes and rolled into his own bed.

When Sam hadn't even acknowledged that anything was amiss the next morning Dean (though he caught his brother glancing at him in amusement and rolling his eyes when he thought Dean wasn't looking) had resolved to just continue doing it until the day Sam verbally complained about it. Or punched him, whichever happened first.  
After that it was kind of an open secret between them that Dean would covertly cut his brother's hair when it got too long and Sam pretended not to notice when his mop would mysteriously shorten an inch or so over night (he even got some fancy scissors specifically for cutting hair. And hadn't that been fun, flirting with the make-up encrusted 50-something owner of the only hair salon in town just to get her to disclose where to get the good kind of clippers. The things he did for his brother. Not that he would ever admit to it though).

Except that had been then and this was now.

Sam was so focused on achieving their goal he wasn't taking proper care of himself, hardly eating or sleeping. You could see it in the way his shirts hung on his emaciated body where before he had filled them out nicely and the dark circles under his eyes.

But the thing that worried Dean the most?  
The last time he'd given Sam his haircut he didn't even notice.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very first fanfiction ever. And probably my last (since my confidence in my writing abilities is practically zero).  
> Feel free to give me some constructive criticism though.
> 
> I blame the whole thing on my friend who, when she heard one of my headcanons, made me write this.
> 
> (If you find any mistakes please don't hesitate to point them out to me)


End file.
